


Lost And Found

by bucketofbarnes



Series: Fallen Order [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Cal Kestis, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketofbarnes/pseuds/bucketofbarnes
Summary: The thief was sent sprawling, their hood falling back, and Prauf's breath caught in his chest.Wide, terrified eyes stared up at him from a young face. Painfully young. Definitely too young for Bracca.It was a child.Or: Prauf and Cal's first meeting.
Relationships: Cal Kestis & Prauf
Series: Fallen Order [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788481
Comments: 28
Kudos: 175





	Lost And Found

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Found Family Bingo Card. The prompt was Stranded/Lost.

There was a bright flash as a bolt of lightning hit an old wreck in the distance, and Prauf stopped and sighed as it was accompanied by the first drops of rain. The area was quickly filled with loud tapping as the rain hit the metal and workers scrambled to get inside or at least under cover. It was hardly unexpected. Bracca was well known for its terrible weather, and not for the first time, Prauf wondered why they had decided to build a scrapyard here of all places.

Back before the Clone Wars, and the Empire’s rise to power, he hadn’t minded the weather so much. He had lived on the planet for years, he'd grown up here. His family had been in the engineering business for years, and he had fond memories of watching his parents work, eventually joining in when they began to teach him. It was in his blood. He'd loved learning to be an engineer, delving deep into the inner workings of machinery and finding out what made it tick. When the time came, he had followed in his family's footsteps. The job hadn’t paid extravagantly, but it was something he enjoyed, and he had had enough to have a comfortable home and life. He had been able to sit inside and listen to the sound of the rain falling and find it almost peaceful. But when the Empire came, all that was lost. His home and his life, even his family, gone. 

Now, he was the proud owner of a Scrapper job with terrible pay and a tiny apartment that was equally as horrible. Just this morning he had been awoken by the feeling of water droplets hitting his face, leaking through a crack in the metal ceiling. He had repaired it as best he could with what little time he had before his shift, but he knew that he would have to find a permanent fix and soon, even though he knew it wouldn’t be cheap. As much as he hated having to do it, he knew he was going to have to dive into the little pile of savings he had managed to gather from his old job.

As lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost missed the tugging on one of the pouches on his belt. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed for whatever was tugging at it. His hand closed around a small arm and as he turned, he saw it was attached to an equally small figure. It wasn’t a strange sight. Bracca was a place of diversity when it came to the workers. Big, small, organic or synthetic, they all had their place in the scrapyard. And thieves were just as common. In a place where the conditions were bad and the pay was even worse, there would always be those who chose to get ahead by taking from their fellow scrappers. 

The small figure was draped in an old, worn coat that was clearly too big, the hood pulled low to cover their face. As he looked down at the small figure, he could feel his anger rising. He'd learned the hard way that thieves were all over Bracca, everyone did at some point or another. Remembering the last time, when he had struggled to make it to his next paycheck, all he could think of was just how much it would have set him back if he hadn't stopped them this time. He opened his mouth, prepared to give them a piece of his mind, when they managed to wrench their arm out of his grasp. 

“Hey!” He bellowed, as they turned and ran. “Get back here!"

He immediately gave chase, darting around the few people still filling the streets. The thing about Bracca was, it was like a maze. What had once been a normal planet had been overwhelmed by the Clone Wars and then the Empire. The streets were now a mess of scrap and old debris, distorted by the cheap and nasty housing popping up all over the place for the sudden influx of new workers that had poured in after the Scrapper's Guild had been established. All these things combined had transformed the streets of Bracca into a confusing mess But Prauf had lived on this planet his whole life. He had known these streets like the back of his hand when he was young and had ensured he knew them again even now. And so it wasn't long before he caught up to the thief. 

He turned the corner and barely managed to catch himself as he slid on the wet ground. Coming to a stop, he watched as the thief quickly realised that they had taken a wrong turn and hit a dead end. They whirled around to face him, their chest heaving, and he knew that he had them. He took a step forward, halfway to grabbing his comm to call the authorities, when the thief lurched backward, tripping over a piece of scrap in the process. They were sent sprawling, their hood falling back, and Prauf's breath caught in his chest. 

Wide, terrified eyes stared up at him from a young face. Painfully young. Definitely too young for Bracca. 

It was a child. 

Years back, and it wouldn't have been such a shock. Why would it have been? Bracca was just like any other planet in the galaxy. Sure, it was cold and wet, but it was theirs. He could remember children playing in the rain, jumping in puddles, screaming with laughter as they ran to find shelter. He remembered  _ being _ one of those children. But those days were long gone. 

The Clone Wars had come to Bracca, and the world as they knew it had been torn apart. Buildings blown to smithereens, bodies in the streets, shouting and screaming and running. The children that had survived the initial burst had been evacuated as quickly as they could manage, shipped off to far away planets that they could only pray were safer than Bracca was right then. And once the wars were over, no one saw the point in coming back. The planet had been left in ruins, and what little they'd had left had been taken away as The Empire had seized it. The days where children belonged on Bracca were long gone. 

This kid didn't belong here. 

By now, the anger had completely drained out of him, and he took in the sight of the kid with a clear mind. A human boy, small enough that he couldn't be older than his very early teens at most. Red hair, green eyes and a face full of freckles. There was a painful looking wound across the side of his face, the skin around it so badly inflamed that it made Prauf wince.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The kid shoved himself backwards, skittering across the ground in an effort to get away. His back hit the wall and he made himself tiny, his arms curled over his head protectively.

"It's alright, it's alright!" He hurried to reassure him, trying to keep his voice as calm and soothing as he possibly could. "Calm down, it's okay."

"I'm sorry!" The boy sobbed. "Please-"

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise." Prauf said desperately. "Kriff, I never would have chased you if I'd known, I'm so sorry kid."

The kid was shaking uncontrollably where he was huddled, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. Prauf could feel his heart breaking as he watched the kid cry. Taking a deep breath, he crouched down in front of him. He winced as the boy flinched away, burrowing even further against the wall. 

"Hey, kid. You're okay." He said softly. "You're okay, I promise."

He didn't know how much time passed, as he kept up a stream of soothing nonsense, trying to calm the frightened child down. Eventually, the sobs began to taper off, but the child was still clearly trembling. Though at this point, Prauf didn't know if that was because he was scared, or cold. The oversized coat he'd noticed the kid wearing when he'd tried to steal from him, threadbare as it was, was stuck to his skin. The sliver of clothes he could see underneath looked like they had suffered the same fate. That, along with the wound on his face? Kriff, the kid was going to get sick like this.

"Hey, uh… you okay?" He asked gently, not wanting to set him off again. 

Two green eyes peeked up at him from over the top of a tiny arm. The boy sniffled, rubbing his arm over his eyes as he nodded hesitantly. 

"Are you… are you gonna call the Troopers?" The kid asked, his face crumpling at the thought. 

"No kid, no I'm not." He couldn't bear to even think about what they would do to a child. "Hey, do you mind telling me your name?"

There was a long pause as the kid gazed up at him, clearly trying to decide if he could be trusted. Prauf tried to keep his face as open and gentle as possible, and eventually the boy's face seemed to soften. "Cal."

"Cal? Nice to meet you Cal." He smiled. "Do you… do you have anyone around here that takes care of you? Anyone I can contact for you?"

Tears welled in Cal's eyes once more as he shook his head. Prauf cursed himself for upsetting him again, despite knowing that the question had been necessary. "Okay, that's okay." 

Thinking quickly, he knew that there was only one thing left he could do. There was no one to take care of the boy, he wasn't about to hand him over to the Empire, and Cal clearly couldn't take care of himself on the streets for much longer.

"Look, I know you've got no reason to trust me. Especially after I chased you through the streets." He admitted. "It's not much, but I've got an apartment and some food. I bet you're hungry."

Cal looked down, clearly torn.

"You can't keep going on like this, kid." Prauf said softly. "It's not safe out here."

The boy was quiet for a moment, clearly at war with himself, before he finally nodded jerkily and moved to stand. Prauf backed up slowly, wincing as his knees protested being unfolded from their crouched position. 

"Alright, come on."

* * *

Prauf winced as the door struggled open, the grinding noise a smidge too loud for this time of night. The door had been jamming for months now, but he could never find the time to fix it. 

"Well, here we are. Home Sweet Home." He said, switching on the lights as he passed them. The bulbs flickered for a moment, before finally coming on, though much dimmer than he would have liked. 

There was another soft grinding noise as the door closed behind Cal. The boy looked uncertain, lingering just in front of the door. He looked around the apartment with wary eyes and Prauf cursed himself for not cleaning up a little, though he knew he could never have seen this coming. 

Dirty dishes he hadn't gotten around to cleaning were clustered on the counter, along with a collection of mugs and packets of food he hadn't put away. Yesterday's clothes were slung over the back of the couch, a pair of his boots sprawled over the floor where he'd almost tripped over them that morning. He hadn't dusted or anything in what felt like forever. He'd feel embarrassed if he didn't know that the kid would have been seeing far worse on the streets. 

"Make yourself comfortable." Grabbing little bits and pieces in an effort to quickly organise the place, he headed towards the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

"Yes, please." Prauf peeked over his shoulder to see Cal heaving himself up onto the couch, the big old thing almost swallowing him. Smiling to himself, he grabbed the last clean glass he had and filled it with water.

"Here you go." Handing it over to the kid, he watched as he almost inhaled it. Studying him again, he remembered that his clothes were soaked and filthy. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Making his way into his bedroom, he opened his wardrobe and stared at it's contents, wondering what to do. Cal was tiny, so obviously none of Prauf's clothes would outright fit him. He had no clothes that would properly fit a child, but he couldn't just leave him in what he was wearing. Rummaging around, he managed to find an old shirt that was too small for him now that he hadn't gotten around to throwing out yet. Though too small for him, it would be more than big enough to cover the kid and keep him warm. 

Taking the shirt back into the main room, he saw Cal hunched in on himself on the couch, shivering slightly in his wet clothes. 

"Hey, I found something for you to wear. It's not much but…" Prauf shrugged. "Showers there if you want it too."

Despite himself, Cal's eyes lit up at the mention of a shower. A matter of minutes later and the boy disappeared into the bathroom, the shower running not long after. Prauf took the time to do a little more tidying up, before putting some soup on to heat up and opening one of the kitchen cupboards to pull out the first aid kit. The thing about being a Scrapper was that injuries could be frequent. Bruising and scratches at best, broken bones at worst. Having a well stocked first aid kit was a must, and first aid in general was something that they all learned how to do pretty quickly. At least when it came to the basics. 

The water shut off and not long after he heard quiet footsteps behind him. Cal stood at the edge of the kitchen space, twisting the fabric of the borrowed shirt nervously in his grip. He'd been right that the shirt would be too big for him. It was long enough that it went well past his knees, the neck of it almost big enough to slip off of one of his shoulders. Still, it was warm and dry and that was all that mattered right now. 

"Hey, I saw that burn on your face." Cal's hand shot up to his jaw, curling around the injury. "It looks pretty painful. Do you mind if I take a look?"

For a moment it looked like Cal was about to burst into tears again, as his hand stayed curled over his wound. But eventually, he lowered his hand with a small nod. Prauf grabbed a soapy bowl of water and a cloth, before leading him back over to the couch. Placing the bowl down on the Caf table and opening the kit, he got to work. From what he could see, the wound was pretty badly inflamed, but it didn't look infected yet. It started on the side of his neck, spreading over his jaw to rest just on the edge of his cheek. 

Dipping the cloth in the soapy water, he began to clean the wound as gently as he could. Applying some antibiotic ointment and a little bit of lotion after that had dried, he smoothed a HapTex patch over the top of the burn and sat back with a smile. 

"There you go. Better?"

"Thank you." Cal nodded. And although he curled his hand back over the newly covered wound, he looked a little more relaxed than he had before. 

"Ah, don't worry about it kid." As the boy made himself comfortable on the couch again, Prauf began cleaning up. Throwing the bloody cloth in the trash, he took the now done soup off of the heat and poured it into a mug. 

“Hey, sou-” He stopped as he turned around, mug in hand, to find Cal slumped over, fast asleep. Putting the mug down, he grabbed a blanket thrown over the arm of the couch and draped it over the boy, smiling fondly as he curled into the warmth.

The soup could wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> bucketofbarnes.tumblr.com


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